


sensibly mad

by exquisitelymorose



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Courtship, F/F, Falling In Love, Light-Hearted, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 08:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exquisitelymorose/pseuds/exquisitelymorose
Summary: "Her eyes peek, not really moving to reach yet and though she can’t be certain, the small contact name that accompanies the text message looks to be the length of Charity’s.The sigh that comes isn’t because she doesn’t want to hear from her. It’s because she does and if she’s being honest with herself, she’s been waiting for a message all day. And she’s beginning to resent herself for it. Vanessa Woodfield, doctor, mother and generally accomplished, well put together woman, is both too old and too sensible to be reduced to teenage antics by a bar maid."Set in the early days of Vanity.





	sensibly mad

The room is almost dark save for the dim light of her lamp and a candle flickering on the night table. 

Vanessa breathes deeply, releasing the air back into the silence and stillness of the room. Her shift had run over after a cow developed severe toxaemia and she’d been forced to call in a favour to Frank to look after Johnny. With a little help from Megan they’d wrangled him into his coat and wellies and run him absolutely ragged down at the park. 

By the time she’d come through the door, spent and smelling slightly unpleasant, his eyes were drooping nearly as much as hers. She’d negotiated a bath before getting him into bed where he’d been all too exhausted to even ask for a bedtime story.  


These moments of being alone in a room undisturbed by the sounds of tiny feet pattering along or a little voice asking for this or questioning that, they’re so rare. Usually she’d read, pop on a movie if she’s lucky but tonight, tonight is different. The bones of her are tired but she’s not weary. She feels more like an exposed wire, live and raw. 

She sighs. The current that runs through her, keeps her up at night and distracts her during the day is a symptom.

A symptom of Charity Dingle. 

Vanessa is reasonable. Not just that, she’s a bloody doctor, she knows how these things go. Dopamine, adrenaline and norepinephrine. They take the feelings we have for someone, the floating, airy thoughts and butterflies we wade through to decipher what is concrete and what is uncertain or indefinite or simply imaginary, and turns them into something that affects the body in a very, very real way. 

It’s the reason people can stay awake three hours later than they usually would just to talk to someone on the phone, or keep pushing back the time they have to leave a date, making silly compromises while trying to keep the seams of their life together. The body goes into overdrive, acting and reacting. A symptom of falling in… Well, just… of falling. 

Her body is beginning to grow wary of it all. It’s been 4 days since she’s even seen Charity and still, she feels flushed and hot at the thought of her, her brain overactive, heart finally settling but still beating just a bit harder than she’s used to. She tries to release another breath into the room. 

This is her night in, her night alone. She won’t be spending it thinking of Charity. The woman down the road who may not even be thinking of her at all.

Her phone chimes. 

She swallows because it’s creeping past 10pm and the only time her phone goes off after Johnny’s bed time is when there’s a work emergency, when Tracy is drunk and dramatic or as of late, when it’s Charity. Her eyes peek, not really moving to reach yet and though she can’t be certain, the small contact name that accompanies the text message looks to be the length of Charity’s.

The sigh that comes isn’t because she doesn’t want to hear from her. It’s because she does and if she’s being honest with herself, she’s been waiting for a message all day. And she’s beginning to resent herself for it. Vanessa Woodfield, doctor, mother and generally accomplished, well put together woman, is both too old and too sensible to be reduced to teenage antics by a bar maid. Let alone one that refuses to admit that they’re basically girlfriends and drives her mad even when she’s not around.

It’s why Vanessa basically pulls a muscle with the strength of her eye roll as she finally reaches for her phone just a bit too urgently. It _is_ Charity. She tries to temper her own flamin’ smile as she unlocks the screen. 

**“4 days without seeing you is 4 days too long babe. X”**

The smile is anything but tempered. She hates to admit that she’s still surprised by the tenderness of Charity at times. Because the other woman tries, in spite of her fear and her... obvious commitment issues, she does try. There’s no lack of affection when no one else is looking and Vanessa has to remind herself, even now, even on the receiving end, that Charity is more than her cracked shell, her reputation. More than the rumours churned out about her. 

**“Is this your way of telling me you miss me?”**

She wants to add something at the end, to call her a right soppy old lady but she stops herself. Vanessa doesn’t think it’ll be all that easy to lose Charity, not really, not for long, but she knows she’s still skiddish about confronting her feelings. So she swallows her teasing. 

She doesn’t expect an instant reply but it comes anyway.

 **“Something like that.”** There’s a brief pause before the bubbles appear again and then a second message comes, **“I want to see you.”**

Her chest warms and a spark ignites low in her belly. 

**“You’re on shift, yeah?”**

**“Unfortunately babe.”**

**“I’ll stop for a pint tomorrow?”**

**“I want to see you now.”**

**“I’m already in bed, you daft mare. Look at the time.”**

**“Calling me daft? Did you forget about the little camera thingy attached to that phone you’re typing on?”**

Yet another eye roll. Then Vanessa swallows long and hard. Sure, they’ve sent photos before, mostly drunkenly, but it’s not a habit. And here Charity is, asking for one. Asking to see her just because she misses her. 

She surveys herself, her makeup less face, her hair limp and damp around her shoulders, oversized grey sweat pants that she is not certain didn’t previously belong to a man and a painfully plain black long sleeved shirt that meets her neck in a less than suggestive spot. She is the opposite of a vision, opposite of alluring. She is the version of herself she’s only allowed Charity to see in fleeting glimpses during early morning rushes, trying to make it back to the their respective homes before the sleepy village wakes. 

Another sigh passes as she picks up her phone.

**“The woman you are trying to reach is absolutely knackered and looks as such. Error: camera not found.”**

She’s simultaneously satisfied with her response, hoping it’s just witty enough to distract Charity from disappointment and equally as disappointed with herself for not just plucking up the courage to send the woman a bloody photo. That strange sort of nervousness, the anxiety of misstepping that lingers in the beginning stages of something… promising, creeps in and she tries to shove it down, reminding herself that once again, she will not be reduced to these immature feelings. 

The third eye roll of the night comes when she begins fussing with the waistband of the sweatpants, negotiating a sultry position with herself before Charity even responds. 

She can’t help the slight disappointment when the other woman responds. She knows Charity isn’t one to whine, she certainly isn’t one to beg, but if Vanessa is honest, she wanted a bit of a fight. 

**“Understood babe. Never known you to look anything short of irresistible though ;)”**

At that the blonde surrenders. She shimmies the waistband of her pants just a bit, rolls the hem of the shirt up her belly a little and stretches herself across the still smooth sheets. She’s laying on her side, propped on her elbow, one hand curling in around her jaw. She tries and she tries, mostly to not laugh at the utter ridiculousness of herself. She shifts the camera a little so her eyes are no longer in view because they’re tired and kind of hollow. Her hand fiddles with the edge of her shirt a bit more, dragging it up a bit past her belly button so her flat tummy and hip are prominently displayed. As she recentres the camera, her finger pops naturally between her lips, which fine are maybe purposefully pouted a little bit.

The camera shutter sounds, the photo coming into view. She sighs because she’s still herself and not some young model from the telly but, it’ll do. 

The overwhelming want to sink into a black hole hits her as she presses send without so much as a two word follow up text. Vanessa Woodfield, doctor, mother and apparent 40 something 10:30pm IPhone model. 

She flicks the phone onto silent, lays it facedown and readjusts her clothing before settling under the warmth of her duvet again. Okay fine, so maybe she’ll surrender to the wants of Charity Dingle but she’s not just going to sit here and wait around for her reply. 

She’s not.

She turns the phone back over.

Three notifications. 

**“Vanessa, this is so unfair.”**

**“Looking knackered, hey? I know you’re a lot of things but I didn’t take you for a liar. You are the hottest woman this countries ever seen, swear it.”**

**“Can’t believe you’re doing this to me while I’m at work babe. X”**

It feels like an insane victory sometimes, the complete attention and adoration of the woman who had been decidedly difficult to crack. Vanessa almost never knows what to do, what to say. But she beams at those three messages like she does when she spots Charity looking at her across a room. 

**“Can’t wait to see what sort of revenge you cook up, Ms. Dingle.”**

She places the phone down again, only completely smug and satisfied with herself. 

The grips of exhaustion linger on her eyelids and she finally reaches over to blow out the candle and click off the lamp. It’s been days since she’s had a proper nights rest and Vanessa knows that once she settles her head on the pillow, she’ll be out like the dead. The phone falls from her hand to the night table with a small clatter before lighting up again. One notification

She should just leave it. Turnover and close her eyes.

But she didn’t formally say goodnight, did she?

The screen unlocks and Charity’s message pops into view.

**“I’ve just nipped down to the cellar babe. Do you want to see what that pictures done to me?”**

She swallows. 

Guess a full nights rest can wait one more day.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something fun about the early days and courtship of Vanity. When things were easy and breezy! Take the time to leave kudos or a comment and you'll make my day and you fuel my fire. Let me know if you want to see anything more of these two!


End file.
